Humility - Virtue Series 07

Humility

Sailboats and sparrows,

astronauts and accidents,

offices and old memories.

O muse, give me the strength,

the determination, the willpower,

that every virtuous villain covets.

When ink soaks through the index

and retreats for its final time,

the author might believe their work

complete, their chapter, closing nigh. 

the tired writer raises gaze to their

lofty rye. Grandchildren playing, 

laughing about how the dog ate a bug.

Plateaus can’t hide the mountains, or

the impending clouds loaded with rain,

and despite visibility, there is beauty.

In knowing, in seeing, jagged rocks,

matted crop, sloping terrain, pre-harvest

ordains. That’s the start of the joke. 

For the first time, through ages of aches,

the worn writer could see far across plains.

Stretching for miles and miles, until

cloaked sunset blinds all beyond frames. 

Despite limited sight, the artist

remembers the existence, 

the space between the lines -

ink becoming permanent and dry. 

Beginning to grin and weep,

the author puts down the pen,

as children wave to their elder’s keep.

Though virtue may not save all for those who pretend,

there is solace in knowing that truth has no end.

If you understood you weren’t reading.

Sincerely, 

JW